Snippets
by medcat
Summary: Various SH ficlets based on writing prompts in Watson's Woes, Great Tales, and Sherlock's Chagrin LJ comms. Some funny, some sad, some serious.
1. Lost without my Boswell

**Author's note: **both chapters created in response to challenge 002: Loss in watsons_woes LJ community; chapter 2 was submitted to said challenge :)

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I returned to Baker Street after a weekend in the country and was greeted by the familiar sight of Sherlock Holmes tearing apart the sitting room in search of something.

"Watson, you're back!" he exclaimed. "Have you seen my commonplace book? It seems to have disappeared."

"As I recall, you used it last week as a weight to press some of the newer newspaper cuttings flat," I returned. "…Ah, here it is." I retrieved the item in question from the piles of papers and various miscellanea littering Holmes's desk.

"Thank you, Doctor. _I would truly be lost without my Boswell_."


	2. Lost without my Boswell: take 2

Having just returned from what was supposed to be a restful weekend fishing in the country (the fish did not bite and I got drenched by the rain, catching a cold as a result), I was already in a foul temper. I started checking through my black bag to make certain I had all the supplies I needed. Everything seemed to be in order until I discovered my stethoscope was missing.

"Holmes! Have you seen my stethoscope?"

"Um…no, not just lately…"

"Stop prevaricating, man, out with it! I cannot attend to my practice without the essential instrument of my trade!"

"Erm… I accidentally spilled sulfuric acid on it last night…I am afraid it was ruined beyond repair; my apologies."

As I was already at the end of my patience, this pushed me over the brink.

"I've put up with cigars in the coal-scuttle, criminal relics in the butter-dish and papers strewn all over the sitting room— but destroying my stethoscope is going rather too far! What were you doing with my stethoscope in the first place?! There are days I rue ever having met Stamford! I intend to look for different lodgings immediately!" I finished, breathing hard.

Holmes hung his head, looking just like a scolded little boy.

"I beg you to reconsider, Doctor_. I would be lost without my Boswell_."


	3. House Fire

**A/N****: **Cross-posted to watson's woes LJ comm for challenge 004. Challenge was to use 3 prompts from comm prompt tables and to form them into one fic. Prompts used are #30: limp, #31: struggle from 1st table, and #79: house fire from 2nd table. Enjoy! ;)

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As Watson struggled to contain the house fire, he faintly heard Mrs. Hudson's voice on the staircase: "Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes, I am_ tired_ of your experiments!" Then the voice came closer and its tone became incredulous: "Dr. Watson, now _you_ have also taken up these nasty chemical experiments?!" He could not answer her at the time, since all his efforts were concentrated on attempting to extinguish the curtains while breathing in as little smoke as possible.

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The next morning, in the train compartment, he was never so glad to hear Holmes's familiar, incisive voice again, "So, how many burns have you?" He went limp with relief as he answered, "I am afraid two of the rugs are beyond repair."


	4. Rise and Shine

**A/N**: for watsons_woes LJ community weekend writing prompt #5: **Holmes getting punched (or some other sort of violence if your muse is so inclined) by Watson.**

My eyes felt as if they were full of sand…I had only returned home at three o'clock in the morning after a difficult confinement…fortunately, all ended well; both mother and baby were fine. I was exhausted, however, and intended to sleep late for once, as (a rare stroke of luck) I had no previous engagements that morning. And now, something (or someone? I couldn't open my eyes wide enough to see) kept insistently shaking me. Instinctively, I struck out at whatever- or whoever-it-was and heard a strangled gasp in response. That surprised me and made me curious enough to finally force my eyes open. I saw Sherlock Holmes standing next to my bed with a rather puzzled look on his face rubbing ruefully at his jaw.

"I must say, Watson, this was not quite the reaction I expected," he ventured hesitantly.

"My apologies; did I hurt you?"

"Mostly my pride."


	5. Happy April 1st!

I had just put a fresh crumpet on my plate and was lifting my teacup to pour the tea into it…when I suddenly saw something move inside the teacup. I barely succeeded in keeping hold of the cup, so startled was I. I set the cup down onto its saucer with extra care and peered into it. I was greeted by the sight of an exceedingly ugly-looking red worm.

"Holmes? What is _this_?!" I inquired, rather indignantly, I'm afraid.

He calmly peered into my teacup.

"Oh, that? My red leech. Happy April 1st, Watson!"

I sighed in exasperation. "To you as well, Holmes. I suppose I should be grateful that it was intentional this time, unlike several other occasions which come to mind. Holmes, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times—you _must_ learn to keep track of your experiments! I prefer my butter unadulterated by criminal relics and my tea leaves without added belladonna and my teacups without red leeches!"

"My apologies, Doctor," he responded contritely. "I shall do my utmost to be more careful in the future."

"See that you do," I sighed, getting a clean teacup for myself.


	6. Talk

A/N: expansion of KCS's sentence #42 – Talk

When Netley asked him just before the Boer War to deliver a lecture on field surgery, he was touched by Holmes's attendance – but when, during a description of bone-sawing, the detective turned the colour of congealing porridge and stumbled hurriedly from the lecture hall, Watson realised that now _he_ was not the one in need of the moral support.

* * *

I hurried outside as soon as the lecture was completed, only to find Holmes nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the building smoking his pipe.

"Are you all right?" I inquired anxiously.

"Of course I am, Watson," he shrugged. "Whyever would I not be?"

"Erm…you looked rather pale there for a moment before you beat a hasty retreat…?"

"Oh that; a momentary indisposition; a trifle, nothing more."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the subject of my lecture, now, would it?" I couldn't resist needling him as he's done so often to me during our years of association. I put my hand on his arm. "In all seriousness, old chap, are you all right? And I must say I'm a bit surprised…surely you've seen enough gruesome sights in the course of your work?"

He was gazing intently at his pipe. "Yes, I am quite all right, Watson. As to why—as I believe I mentioned before, imagination is the breeding-ground of horror. And I could not help imagining how it must have been for you…"


	7. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

The afternoon was so pleasant and neither of us was busy for a change…I had nothing pressing to do, Holmes had no case at hand, and thus I succeeded in luring him out to the London Zoo. We were strolling leisurely along the paths, enjoying the sunny weather. Even Holmes looked content. In the course of our perambulations, we came to the feline habitat and stopped to observe the tigers prowling the cage. "What graceful creatures," I could not help remarking. "How strong yet how elegant." "Yes, so they are," Holmes quietly agreed, watching them intently…suddenly, his eyes widened and he grabbed my wrist, hissing, "Watson, run!"

"What?!" I blinked, taken aback.

"Run, Watson! The lock on the tiger cage is broken," Holmes insisted, pulling us back along the path.

I dared glance behind us and my throat went dry. "Too late," I whispered as I heard the roaring behind us. Holmes was doggedly pulling me along but my leg already started protesting.

"Holmes—I'll—only slow—you—down," I gasped while stumbling along. "Leave—me."

"No, Watson," and his hand tightened on my wrist.

"Leave me," I insisted, trying to shake him off. "We'll—never—outrun—this—animal—I've my—revolver."

"Bless you, Watson," sighed Holmes, as he released my wrist and redoubled his speed.

I jumped aside and frantically fumbled in my pocket, pulling my weapon out and aiming it. The tiger rushed past me…now! I fired and the animal dropped almost instantly. Holmes came jogging back at a more leisurely pace a minute or two later, having heard the shot.

"Shot directly through the heart," he stated, bending down to examine the tiger. "Your aim is as true as ever, my dear Watson."

Unfortunately, all the commotion has attracted a small crowd of onlookers and we saw the zoo director approaching us as well…this was going to take some explaining.

* * *

A/N: this was written for celebration of 1st birthday of Watson's Woes LJ comm in answer to following request: If you want to see Holmes getting chased by an escaped tiger in the London Zoo and rescued by Watson, guns a-blazin', request it. (would like to see that, come to think of it...)


	8. Popcorn

"Watson? What _are_ you doing?!"

"Stringing popcorn for a Christmas tree garland, Holmes. Is it not obvious?"

"Well…yes…yes, it is."

"Then why on earth did you ask? Especially a master of observation such as you?"

"Oh…I was merely momentarily startled to see my fellow lodger indulging in such a childish pastime."

"Childish?! Ooh…I'll show you _childish_!" and with these words I picked up a handful of the white fluffy kernels and tossed it directly into Holmes's face. He blinked in surprise, as he certainly did not expect such an attack. But, as always, he reacted quickly—it took him but a few seconds to recover from his surprise and nimbly skip across the room towards the popcorn bowl to grab a huge handful to toss at me.

Needless to say that within less than a quarter of the hour, we had a very short popcorn garland and a thoroughly littered sitting room. Also needless to say, Mrs. Hudson was not amused when she walked in another few minutes later to ask us what time we'd like to have dinner and found a sitting room carpeted with popcorn and two supposedly responsible adults giggling like schoolboys on the first day of school holidays.

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A/N: Written for 1st birthday celebration for Watson's Woes LJ comm in answer to the following request: "Holmes and Watson throwing popcorn at each other."


	9. A Phone Conversation

A/N: Inspired by this sentence from Arisprite's 100 sentences story:

"When Mycroft got the telephone call in the mid 1940s, and heard his name cut off by choked swallows, his heart sank; one of them was gone then."

Also inspired by phone conversations in KCS's stories and her story "My Dear Watson." This is a companion piece of sorts to that story. Credit for the idea of Holmes and Mycroft using French goes to katieforsythe.

* * *

"Take a deep breath. Now, tell me."

"He's…gone, Mycroft."

"I am so sorry, Sherlock."

"Th-thank you…"

"When?"

"Just n-now…"

"_Petit frère?_"

"_Oui?_"

"I shall catch the next train to Sussex. It should arrive at…let me check…ah yes, 16:10 this afternoon."

"Thank you, Mycroft."

"Of course. Now, have you told your housekeeper?"

"N-not yet…"

"All right. You need to do that, as soon as you're able. I shall see you this evening."


	10. Suppertime

I walked into 221B after a long day, and immediately noticed how smoky the air was. As I worriedly called Holmes's name, he walked out of the kitchen, apparently unharmed.

"A mishap with the stove, Watson," he grinned sheepishly. "Mrs Hudson is away, and I attempted to prepare supper…"

"How bad is the damage this time?" I inquired, acerbically.

"Oh, the stove is still in one piece, but I fear the supper perished," Holmes responded placidly. "And I believe I've a burn or two on my hands." He held them out for my inspection. They were red, and despite being covered with soot, I could see at least three places which were beginning to blister. I moaned inwardly, I was already utterly exhausted, and had been looking to having a hot supper and relaxing in front of the fire…"All right, Holmes, go rinse off this soot—carefully—and then come back to the sitting room."

"Of course, Watson," he nodded, already ascending the stairs. By the time I'd divested myself of my outer clothing and got everything ready, he was on the settee, looking at his hands ruefully. "No violin-playing or chemistry at least for a week," was my verdict, "and if you want to avoid infection and minimise scarring, you'll have to keep the burned areas covered with a bandage."


	11. A Day Like Any Other

**Author's Note: **written for a prompt on Sherlock's Chagrin prompt on LiveJournal.

April 1st, for me, was a day like any other…I worked my usual hours at my practice and had dinner with Holmes in the evening. Afterwards, he was lounging in his chair in front of the fire, about to light his after-dinner pipe. I declined his invitation to join him, as I'd not slept well the night before due to rainy weather, and decided to turn in early in hopes of making up for lost sleep. I bade Holmes good night and entered my room. Just as I removed my cufflinks and was about to put them in a box on my bureau, my bedroom door burst open with such force that it nearly came off the hinges. Turning around in astonishment, I beheld Holmes, smouldering pipe in hand and an indescribable expression on his face.

"What is the matter?" I inquired, somewhat alarmed.

"Watson, this time, you've gone too far!" he declared, indignantly.

I was entirely puzzled. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Is this yet another attempt to force me to curtail my smoking, _Doctor_?" he exclaimed, brandishing his pipe at me. "This time, you've gone too far!"

I searched my memory but still had no idea what he was referring to. "What on earth do you mean by that?"

"As if you don't know!" he hissed. "This package of tobacco you picked up at Bradstreet's for me today is composed of equal parts of tobacco and tea leaves! Now I rather doubt Bradstreet's is playing April Fool's pranks on its customers…so is this yet another attempt of yours as I said…or have you now descended to juvenile pranks, Doctor?"

"No…but you see, I was busy today and met Wiggins _en route _to the tobacconist…he offered to pick up the package for me…why that little…_little_…" I could not think of a suitable epithet.

Holmes burst out laughing at my (no doubt, quite dismayed) expression, and I could not resist joining in the merriment.


	12. From the diary of JH Watson, MD

From the diary of J.H. Watson, M.D.

January 1881

I feel as if I were falling, these days…as if gravity were pulling me down. Or adrift at sea, no rudder and no anchor. Life seemed so simple a few years ago—I was a medical student, then I went into the Army, after some years I was thinking perhaps to go into private practice, join up with an older physician perhaps…but now…ah, now…I am embarrassed even to record such things, but…_epistola non erubescit_ (thank God for small favours…)

End of May, 1891

I just looked at a random entry from 1881 (more than 10 years ago, now) and I see I'd written, among other things, that "I feel as if I were falling"…oh how history repeats itself.

It is a bad dream, surely? Or my imagination has run amock? He is merely away on a case; he will saunter in, any moment, eyes alight, eager to tell me all about it…

And rationally, I know full well he is dead—no doubt he'd dismiss what I wrote in the lines above as romantic drivel, at that—yet…yet there is some subconscious part of my mind which refuses to believe it…perhaps because I'd not seen the actual event…perhaps…oh I hardly know any longer; perhaps I am simply going mad.

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**A/N**: written for the "falling" prompt for the watsons_woes LJ comm July writing challenge and slightly expanded. And "epistola non erubescit" means "paper does not blush" in Latin.


	13. Upside Down

**Author's notes: **Prompt fill for eanor's prompt on great_tales comm on LJ, which states: One morning (without warning or explanation) the world is turned upside down - literally. I hope this amuses you-haven't written anything for months, but I saw this prompt, and suddenly an idea came to me, and then another idea...;)

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"Holmes?"

I blinked sleep from my eyes, only to be confronted by an irate Watson, who was standing on his head.  
"Good morning to you too, Watson," I muttered, reaching for a cigarette (I had to grope underneath the overturned nightstand for my cigarette case and matches) and lighting it. "Ah, that's better," I continued, after taking a long pull, "now, Watson, whyever are you standing on your head?"

"That's what I came to find out! Is this the result of yet another experiment of yours? Heaven knows setting fire to the curtains on one occasion, destroying the hearthrug on another, …well I don't think I need to cite the entire list, do I? My point is, those were bad enough, but this, Holmes, _this_! Words fail me."

"Doesn't sound like it to me," I muttered, and continued, "and no, Watson, I am just as surprised to see this as you are…" As I said this, I noticed that indeed all the furniture was upside down, except for my bed, that is, and the ceiling has become the floor. "I seem to be the epicentre of this, Watson," I remarked, "however, I am quite at a loss as to possible causes…"

And then Mrs Hudson burst in, just as irate as Watson…

_**meanwhile, in another universe...**_

The Bridge of USS Enterprise, NCC 1701  
Captain Kirk, hopping mad: "Mr Spock! Would you care to explain why everything on Starship Enterprise is upside down this morning? And why are YOU standing on your head, Mr Spock? What kind of experiments are you conducting in the Science Department? That's NOT FUNNY, MISTER, I demand an explanation!"

Spock (standing on his head)  
"Captain Kirk, I regret to say that I have no explanation to offer..."

Kirk: "Are you a researcher or aren't you? Well, research, damn it! I want this SOLVED and I want it solved NOW and I won't take no for an answer!"


	14. The Price of Fame

A/N: for the 80 word challenge on the great_tales comm on LJ. Collab with Captain Facepalm.

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"You seem unusually vexed, Watson. What is the matter? You've been scowling at the stack of foolscap on your desk. I perceive it is covered with handwriting, which is not yours."

"Oh a friend of mine aspires to literary fame and asked me to look over his manuscript."

"...And?"

"...And I am seriously contemplating a trip to Sumatra!"

"...Watson...wasn't ONE encounter with the giant rat enough? I still cannot recall the incident without a shudder, even all these years later!"


	15. To Boil an Egg

**A/N:** Collab with Captain Facepalm. Inspired by a charming drawing by akito_shi for the Watson's Woes comm party.

You can see the drawing here: (remove spaces) akito-shi . livejournal . com /2996. html #cutid3

P.S. We thought this vignette would be suitable for Eastertime :)

* * *

"Well, Holmes, what shall we do for lunch?"

"My dear fellow, with Mrs. Hudson away, surely we could manage something?"

"We? _You_ cannot even boil an egg!"

"Aren't you a betting man, Watson...?"

"Oh very well, five pounds?"

"Done!"

"Um... Holmes...please tell me that is not the beaker you used when you were testing for arsenic last week..."

"No, no, of course not! I am not so bereft of sense that I would wish to poison my personal physician... or myself, for that matter!"

"I'm sure you're right."

"Oh do try to say that with at least some conviction!"


	16. A Murder in Baker Street

**Author's Note:** This was written by Shae and posted on the diary. ru/ ~221b comm back in 2009. I translated and posted it to the watsons_woes comm on LJ over a year ago, and now here for your enjoyment.

* * *

Wearily, I entered our flat on Baker Street. Holmes was sitting in front of the fireplace, peering through his magnifying glass at the thick veins and scars from injections on his left forearm. I greeted him, but because I was so tired, I decided to immediately go up to my own bedroom and rest after having taken care of a seriously ill patient.

However, Holmes stopped me short:

"If you are hurrying to go to your bedroom, I would absolutely recommend against it," he said, rolling up the sleeve of the dressing gown on his right forearm.

"Why? Has something happened?" I asked, stopping and leaning on the banister.

"You see, my dear fellow, what happened was..." apparently, his veins interested him greatly, and he fell silent.

"So what did happen, Holmes?"

"Ah yes...My dear fellow, what happened is this: there is a corpse lying on your bedroom carpet."

I thought I must have misheard him, and I asked again,

"Pardon me, what did you say?"

"A corpse, my dear Watson. Quite an unpleasant sight, I must tell you. I am afraid that the skull is crushed, the brains oozed out directly onto your Persian rug, although I myself preferred to look away. Of course, you, as an Army doctor, especially since you have served in Afghanistan, are used to such...uh..._nature mortes;_ still, I insist that you wait a bit."

"But...erm...permit me to ask, how did this actually come about?"

Holmes laid the magnifying glass down and pointed to the armchair next to his. I sat down. My friend silently poured brandy into the two glasses which stood ready, and I realised that the conversation would be long and unpleasant.

"Do you remember the mysterious noise yesterday night and tonight? Well then, it turned to be our little friend. I discovered him today in my room, when I went upstairs to sort out my personal papers. He slipped away from me and got into your room. I hope you will magnanimously forgive me for invading your rooms, but I considered it necessary. I hope you won't condemn me. And, since I had my revolver with me, I crushed his head. It's possible that some of his other body parts are broken too."

"Good heavens, Holmes! That is simply barbaric! You should have detained that fellow, called for the police..."

"I'm afraid that Lestrade wouldn't have bothered with such a trifling case." Holmes thought for a little while, then declared, "God rest his soul," and drained his brandy glass.

"So is it _Lestrade_ who is lying dead on my rug?" By this point, I couldn't understand any of it.

"Heaven forbid. There is a corpse of an unknown individual in your room. I am afraid his identity will never be established-he'll be buried in the common grave..."

"But that is inhumane, Holmes!" I knew that Holmes was generally devoid of empathy, but I didn't expect such heartlessness even from him.

"I suppose that you are right, my dear friend. However, had I let him live, he'd have brought his companions. Therefore, the best decision for you would be to wait for Mrs Hudson to return from the shop. When her mission of cleaning your room and removal of the corpse is concluded, then, I think, you could go upstairs and rest."

"Holmes, you propose to permit an elderly woman to engage in such a task as removing a corpse? Her heart may not be able to endure the strain, I am telling you that as a doctor! We must have the hearse come for the body, then sanitize the room..."

"Watson, notwithstanding all my respect towards you and towards the animal kingdom, all that would be too much honour for one cockroach."


End file.
